Slasher imagines

Michael Myers

His eyes shot open as his grip tightened on the knife in his hold. He looked around in a frenzy. Was he behind his house? When had he gone out, when had he grabbed his knife- Where were you? He shifted his position from leaning against a wall to standing up straight and looking around. Something was wrong. He had blacked out and let the voices control him before, but this felt different. He woke up in your arms, your voice soothing his anger and drive, but you were nowhere to be seen. He wasn't in your shared bed. He walked to his front yard when he noticed how abandoned the town was. He looked at his house and noticed the decor was similar to how it looked before you renovated it. Michael wanted to march into the building and find you, but something stopped him.

A feeling sparked inside his stomach, right before a loud bang caught his attention. He focused his gaze on smoke arising from something in the distance. A figure, they seemed to be crouching in front of a generator of some sort, and said generator was smoking. It seemed they failed somewhere in the process of starting the machine. Michael felt the voices in his head. They were telling him to search for this person, find them, and kill them. He didn't trust them, not this time. They sounded different, they felt different. Although he felt odd about the situation, he complied and started tracking the figure he had seen.

He finally made it to the generator, but no one was in sight. As he turned, he caught a glimpse of something. The overgrown shrubs nearby were moving like something was maneuvering through them. He quickly followed in pursuit. He found himself picking up the pace, a slight panic washed over him, and this was unknown to him. He never felt anything but rage and adrenaline whenever he hunted his prey. His hand shot out and grabbed a head of hair, yanking it back. A cry was heard from this action. Usually, he would slit their throat in such a predicament, though the voices were telling him something unusual. A hook. There was a hook nearby. Hang them on it.

Michael had no time to question this. A flash of light blinded him, causing him to release his hold of the victim. His hand came up to shield his eyes, and he heard at least two pairs of feet shuffling away from him. Apart from the frustration eating at him, he was just downright confused. He came to his senses, but something else quickly caught his focus. A voice. It wasn't the voices in his head. It was the lovable sound of your voice. Ringing in his ears like a symphony. Michael felt like his heart lurched for you. It was like he hadn't seen you in years. He yearned for your touch, though he had only been holding you tight hours before you went to sleep together the night before. Or...was it a few nights ago? Michael's memory was fogged, glazed over with a density so thick he couldn't reach out far enough to understand what was happening. All he knew was that voice, the voice he loved so much, and so he followed it.

Michael hid among the shrubs, staring at the two people before him. A man that stood fairly tall, with thick brown hair that stood on ends leading into a pointed fin. He adorned a white button-up with a red tie and glasses resting on his nose. The other adult, crouching next to the male as she worked on the generator, had h/c hair formed to style well fit for her. She wore a stained black hoodie with dirty ripped jeans. Michael knew that woman was you. And he felt his hand twitch as he looked at the scars on your face.

Michael didn't hesitate to grab the man next to you and pick him up, slinging the male over his shoulder, and gently (yet firmly) grasping your arm to drag you next to him.
"Dwight!" You yelped. Michael's eyebrow twitched as the name left your lips. It didn't sound right.

After successfully putting Dwight on a nearby hook (Michael was still confused about why he just knew to do this), Michael walked away to a private location with you still in his grasp.  He needed to talk to you. He needed to know what was going on. Eventually, he did find a suitable place to talk and hesitantly set you free. He didn't want you to run, but you also stopped struggling a while back. You stood a little shaken as you hugged yourself, but you didn't move. Yet you also didn't look at him. Michael didn't remember anything before this, but something in him told him that this wasn't good. You were usually a happy person.